


Falling Hurts

by ProfoundlyValiantStrawberry



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale isn't much better at helping him, Aziraphale loves him back, Crowley is bad at dealing with things, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not a psychologist tho, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, PTSD Elements, Softer Aziraphale, The Fall - Freeform, post-notpocalypse, soft Crowley, they're in love okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23394832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfoundlyValiantStrawberry/pseuds/ProfoundlyValiantStrawberry
Summary: Demons didn't talk about the Fall, or how much it hurt. Some things, though, are too heavy to carry on your own.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Falling Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up taking more time and being much longer than I originally intended. All in all it ended up taking about two weeks. What I thought was going to be a few hundred words turned into nearly 2.5k, but here we are. I hope you all enjoy.

_Demons never talked about how much Falling hurt. The burning as their snow white wings were charred eternally black. The way their celestial bones seemed to break as they first made contact with the stony pits of Hell. Least of all did they talk about the emotional pain of being cast out and abandoned by the Mother Almighty. If they did, perhaps their motivations for attempting to damn humanity would have been clear. They were singularly driven to inflict that same pain on God by bastardizing the creations She most refused to abandon._  
When Crowley burst into the bookshop in Soho appallingly drunk and sopping wet from the storm raging outside just as Aziraphale was settling down with a cup of tea and a book for the evening, the angel breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been expecting this for a fortnight now.

XxXxX

Once every one hundred and one years or so occurred a celestial anniversary of sorts. The stars and planets aligned in just the same way they did at the moment of the Fall. Aziraphale, being an angel, had no reason to know this outside of his ever-growing association with Crowley. He even remained unaware of it through their first few thousand years of shared time on Earth. No, it wasn’t until about the 1000s that Aziraphale realized anything was amiss.  
The first time that Crowley showed up on Aziraphale’s doorstep on an anniversary the angel was shocked. He also had no idea what was happening. Crowley had knocked on the door of Aziraphale’s quaint cottage. The demon was astonishingly drunk and decidedly dishevelled. Aziraphale let him in, not really knowing what else to do. Crowley had never shown up to his residence unannounced, especially not in such a state. Their interactions up to this point had mainly consisted of chance meetings at important historical events, and while they were civil, even cordial, they certainly weren’t friends.  
Needless to say, the angel had been out of his depth.   
That first visit Aziraphale had tried in vain to ascertain what had brought Crowley to his door. The demon, however, seemed determined to drown whatever that was in as much alcohol as his corporation could stand while staring wordlessly at the ceiling. After an hour of failed attempts to get the demon to open up, Aziraphale had resigned himself to merely watching and worrying until his silent companion had drunk himself to sleep on the sofa, where he had remained for three days. Aziraphale arose on the fourth morning to find him gone.   
They never spoke of the incident and things between them continued on as normal for the next century. Aziraphale wondered about it occasionally, but didn’t let it trouble him. It had nearly slipped out of his mind entirely by the time it happened again.  
The next five centuries passed in much the same way. They grew steadily closer to one another, but still never mentioned Crowley’s strange visits. After the one in the 1500s Aziraphale finally managed to work out the pattern. Overwhelmed by curiosity but unable to ask anyone on either side, the angel had gone over every possible detail of the dates when Crowley made his visits. He found that the planets had been in the same position each time and then followed that alignment nearly all the way back to Creation before he figured it out. The Fall. Of course.  
Perhaps that’s why, later that century, when Crowley suggested the Arrangement, Aziraphale was so quick to agree. His friend - and he had started to consider him such - was so clearly hurting. The angel couldn’t help but do something to lift even just a small piece of his burden.  
The next two anniversaries were worse than any of the previous ones. In the 17th century Crowley showed up not only drunk, but in inconsolable tears. Aziraphale had no idea what to do, and Crowley still wasn’t talking. So the angel merely filled his drinks when he needed it and, when he passed out on the couch, gingerly tucked him in.  
The 18th century, however, blew the 17th out of the water. Rather than crying alone, Crowley had latched onto Aziraphale the moment he was in the shop and proceeded to cry into the angel’s shoulder for hours. Aziraphale was once again unsure how to proceed. He settled for wrapping his arms around the demon and holding him in silence until his sobs quieted and his tears tapered to a halt. Eventually they had both fallen asleep on the sofa and when Aziraphale awakened before Crowley he eased him down into a more comfortable position before covering him up and going about his day.  
When the 19th century came around Aziraphale had begun to expect Crowley’s visit, and when the anniversary came and went with no sign of him the angel had begun to worry. He could still feel his presence on the planet, but he couldn’t stop the worry from creeping inl After about five years of hearing nothing from him at all, Aziraphale finally broke down and went to his flat. Pulling a move from Crowley’s playbook he miracled the lock open. When he found his friend sleeping more soundly than the dead he breathed a deep sigh of relief. The angel locked up on his way out and continued on.   
He was a bit surprised that Crowley slept through the entirety of the 19th century and the longer he slept the more Aziraphale had wondered if this hibernation had anything to do with his centennial visits.   
The presence of the demon on the next anniversary was even more concerning than his absence. Crowley was as usual inconsolable, but his pain seemed deeper this time. Or perhaps it was just that Aziraphale knew him better now and could read him more easily. Or maybe the demon was lowering his walls to the angel. Whatever it was, Aziraphale felt his heart break for his friend. He held him again, rubbing comforting circles into his back and whispering soft reassurances into his ear.

XxXxX

So yes, Aziraphale had been expecting this. He rose to shut the door behind Crowley, the noise from the storm dulling as he did so. When he turned back to the demon he found him already draped over the sofa drinking deeply from a bottle he had conjured into his hand. As the angel sat down lightly beside him he could smell the water from Crowley’s clothes soaking into the aged upholstery. Aziraphale miracled them both dry and waited for what Crowley would do.   
He expected the tears. Those he had prepared for. He wasn’t even entirely surprised when Crowley tipped up the bottle of whiskey he held and downed it all in one go. Aziraphale sat, rubbing soothing circles into his back, thinking that this would be how it went this time.   
But then, after several minutes of silence, the angel felt the muscles under his fingers tense and he watched in stunned silence as the bottle in front of him filled back up with the amber liquid. Judging by the increase in the intensity of the demon’s sobs, he guessed that several more bottles scattered around London had just done the same. Crowley leaned on him heavily and the pain Aziraphale heard in the choked noises he made was nearly overwhelming. It positively broke his heart. He pulled his demon more fully into his arms and allowed him to cry into his shoulder.  
Time passed. It could have been minutes or hours that went by with them sitting like that before Aziraphale placed a gentle kiss on Crowley’s head. Everything seemed to shift at once after that. Crowley’s breathing deepened and his sobs began to quiet. Before the angel could wonder what was happening he found himself staring into those large yellow eyes that he had found more and more irresistible for the last thousand years. Even puffy around the edges and swimming with pain as they were now, he couldn’t help but find them beautiful.  
“Angel,” Crowley croaked before clearing his throat and trying again. “Angel, do you know why I show up like this when I do?” he asked.  
Aziraphale was taken off-guard by the question. They never talked during these visits. Or at least Crowley didn’t. “It’s a sort of celestial anniversary of the Fall, but beyond that I’ve no idea I’m afraid.”  
Crowley nodded slowly, his eyes drifting toward the alcohol on the table and then back to Aziraphale. “You’re right,” he said. Then he paused so long that the angel started to wonder whether he would speak again. Then, quietly: “Did anyone ever tell you about the pain?” The look in his eyes was so tortured, so broken and defeated, that the angel feared he may begin sobbing himself.  
“No, I,” he swallowed thickly, knowing that the last thing Crowley needed was his tears. “I don’t believe they have.”  
“‘Course not,” Crowley said, eying the bottle on the table again. “None of us ever talk about it. Not even with each other. No one who hasn’t experienced it knows how bad it hurts to fall.” Aziraphale didn’t know whether or not to speak, but before he could make up his mind Crowley was continuing. “It’s like being burned alive, Angel. You burn and you burn until every shred of your grace has been burned away and your wings are charred as black as this new version of your soul. And after you’ve been falling and burning for so long you think it’ll never end, the fire goes out because it’s eaten away everything good in you and then there’s just the falling. And you think you can deal with that because at least it doesn’t burn, but then the falling stops all at once and you feel every bone in your celestial body break as you make contact with the unforgiving stone of Hell. I can’t imagine dying hurts half as bad, if only because you don’t have to remember it.”  
There was a long pause and Aziraphale found it difficult to make eye contact. He could scarcely imagine the pain Crowley described. And to know that his best friend, his partner in many ways, truly his other half had suffered through such pain and had to deal with the memory of it alone for millennia made him ache. He felt bad for the other demons, of course, but it was nothing compared to the way his heart broke for Crowley’s pain. “I had no idea, my dear.” The angel placed his hand on the demon’s face, and Crowley’s hand came up to hold it there.   
“That’s not even the worst part. You see, demons aren’t out to damn humanity purely because they’re evil. If that were it the fun would have worn off a long time ago. The part that hurt the most was the betrayal. The abandonment. God cast us all out without so much as a second thought. And any one of us would have burned for a thousand years if it meant She would have loved us again.” Aziraphale dared not speak. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. “No other demon would admit to this, not ever, but it’s revenge. Spite. They damn these humans because they’re all still hoping to torture our great Mother by torturing Her most valued creations. The ones She famously refuses to abandon.”  
There was silence then, as Aziraphale digested all this information. It was difficult to comprehend that kind of suffering without ever having experienced it. His thumb rubbed absently back and forth over Crowley’s cheek as he thought, and the demon still held his hand in place. As he mulled over Crowley’s words there was one thing that stuck out in his mind. “They?” he asked simply.  
“Sorry?” Crowley asked, seeming to have been pulled out of a state of deep thought.  
“You said ‘they’ attempt to damn humanity. Do you not count yourself among them anymore?”  
The demon seemed to take him in for a moment before answering. Aziraphale wondered if he had crossed some sort of line. Or perhaps he had pointed out something Crowley hadn’t yet realized. He waited patiently. “No,” Crowley said finally, “I don’t suppose I do. I think I stopped counting myself with them about the same time I started drinking on your couch instead of causing natural disasters or tempting powerful people on these anniversaries.” He paused, looking deeply into Aziraphale’s eyes. The angel wondered what he found there. “It still hurts, Angel. The memories are torturous in themselves. I can’t remember anything before the Fall, and I doubt the others can either. We don’t know what it’s like to feel Her love. The Fall robbed us of those memories and left only the pain in their place.”  
“I do wish there was something I could do to ease your suffering, dear boy,” Aziraphale said sympathetically. He knew Crowley didn’t want or need his pity, but no other being meant so much to him, and it pained the angel to know there was nothing he could do to make any of it go away.   
“You already do, Angel,” Crowley said, and smiled a sad sort of smile. “You give me something to be good for.” He paused then, apparently trying to gauge Aziraphale’s reaction.  
The angel, for his part, had no idea how to react. He was touched. It was perhaps the nicest thing that anyone had ever said to him. It wasn’t every day, after all, that a demon told you that you made them want to be good. It was overwhelming. He leaned his forehead against Crowley’s and closed his eyes. “My dear boy,” he whispered into the small space between them. He could smell the alcohol on the demon’s breath, along with faint hints of smoke and something else that was entirely unique to him.   
When Crowley spoke again he also whispered. “For millennia I didn’t think I was capable of love, nor worthy of it. I know better than that now. I love you, Aziraphale.”  
The angel gasped and pulled away slightly to look into his demon’s eyes; those huge beautiful eyes. He searched his face for a moment before leaning in to close the small space between them. Crowley shook slightly as they kissed and Aziraphale suspected he was crying again. When they parted he wiped his thumb over the wetness on the demon’s cheek and said softly, “I love you too, darling.”

They stayed like that for a while, just sitting and holding each other. They told each other things they’d never had the courage to express before. They were in love, and now they both knew it. They had a millenium of lost time to make up for, but they had all the time in the world to do it. They were together. They had each other. That’s what mattered. All the rest would sort itself out without their interference.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment or shoot me a message so I have some form of human interaction while not being able to leave my house. Have a great day


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